Trigon the Benevolent
by Ol' Boy Pacman
Summary: Series of inter-connected one shots revolving around a slightly less genocidal, way more fatherly interdimensional demon-god, who sired everyone's favorite purple haired half demon.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is something I've been throwing around mentally for bit, I have about 8 or 9 concepts for one-shots thought up and summarized. Slight or maybe more OOC ahead and OCs as well. Oh, and I don't own Teen Titans.**

* * *

1\. Dearest Raven

Raven is moving as fast as her legs can carry her. Her hood and cloak trialing behind her as she navigates the twists and turns of halls of an expansive castle.

 _Got to get away. I can't let him catch me._

No matter how fast she moves, he always catches up. No matter how far the distance, it seems he is never too far away.

She can hear his heavy footsteps closing the distance, as she clears another corner. Her cloak getting heavier as she tries to double her efforts.

"Raven…" she hears him growl lowly. She hears his own cloak tremor in the air of the brisk castle as she senses him increase his gait.

There's another corner up head. Raven doubles her efforts once again as she summons the power of her levitation turning the corner up ahead. Her final, powerful step, pushing her into the air.

"No…" Raven whispers in horror. She sensed his aura briefly leave her cognizance, behind her. As it materialized just around the corner.

 _SMACK!_

In her panic Raven had used too much power when she took flight, still far from mastering control of her abilities. She's impacted the pursuer.

Looking up into what, or more accurately whom she had impacted.

She apprehensively begins to scoot away from the figure before her. It's not long before her back hits a wall.

She takes in the full figure of her pursuer. Heavy looking solid colored black boots are covering his feet. Flooding over the tops of the boots are similarly solid colored pants, which stretch up, wrapping around the seemingly endless legs of the figure. The end at the waist of the pants begins a tucked-in gray colored shirt trailing up his tall abdomen. It's collared and short sleeved; the exposed muscular, angry red arms of the figure are crossed around his wide chest. A hoodless, collarless midnight black cloak is wrapped around the shoulders of the figure. Raven fearful stares into the blood red face the of her pursuer. His pure black lips sitting above his large square jaw are turned up in a smile revealing pure white fangs and teeth. His hair, as pure white as the snow, is pulled into a ponytail. His flat wide nose pointed right at her. The blacks of his two eyes seemingly absorbing the light from his fire red irises', which are glowing with mirth.

He uncrosses his arms, dropping to a knee smile falling from his face. He reaches out to Raven, large hand unfolding. Revealing long black claws at the end of each fingertip, before his hand lands on her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Raven?" the figure growls softly.

Raven sighs, nodding her head one time, her hair neck length hair bouncing with the motion.

"Yes papa", she replies. "But you cheated! I said no magic. So that means I win!"

"Now Raven, it was you who broke that rule first," he said chuckling. "You levitated. Surely you didn't expect to compete in a game of hide-and-go-seek with such a handicap? Now as agreed time for bed."

"But papa…" she whines, her bright purple eyes boring dolefully into his.

Trigon was no stranger to begging. In his former life he lived as conquer. There were countless civilizations of this and that world, whole dimensions even that had been beleaguered by his hordes and fell at his feet. Of the vanquished worlds, many had begged for mercy. For their worlds.

Their countries.

Their comrades.

Loved ones.

Wives.

Sons.

 _Daughters._

Regret flashes in his eyes, as his smile once again leaves his face. The same doleful eyes of countless victims of his meaningless bloodlust flashing in his mind.

Trigon's feelings of guilt and remorse assaults Raven's newly developed empathy, bringing the girl of 4 years old to tears the feelings being so strong.

"Papa…" she whimpers.

Trigon realizes what's happening. He breaks his dark reverie, mentally chastising himself. He pulls Raven into his arms. Raven lays her head on his shoulder, hand gripping her father's shirt as if life depended on it. No doubt she's unable to process the strong feelings of regret of her father.

 _I must keep that under control, Raven's sake._

"My dearest Raven," he quietly says. "Please don't cry. How about I let you stay up a little longer. We're far from your room thanks to our game. How about I walk you there."

"Could you carry me there, papa?" She says as she releases his shirt, wiping her tears.

"Don't you think you might to old to be carried Raven?"

"It's not for me papa! I don't know what those feelings were just now, but right now I think you need a big, long hug. So, carry me so I can give it to you." Finished Raven, as she reclaims her tight her hold on him.

Trigon's heart swells with pleasure as he beings to make his to the residential part of the castle, Raven his arms. Raven starts to giggle. Likely because of the glee that has overtaken Trigon has over taken Raven's empathy.

He kisses her directly on her chakra, smiling widely.

 _What an amazing daughter I have._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Still don't own Teen Titans. The timeframe of this is the end of the episode,** _ **The End, Part 3.**_

2\. Enter Trigon

The titans are enjoying a moment of repose gathered around Raven.

Well, not all of them…

Beast Boy has Raven trapped in tight embrace, relieved that their ordeal is at an end. Even more relieved the girl wriggling in an awkward attempt to free herself from his hug is alright. Firmly fond of his skin and unwilling to test his luck any further today, the changeling releases Raven from his hold. "I'm just glad you're ok, Rae."

She sighs contently, ready to go back to the tower. Hearing her friends make tentative plans to celebrate saving the world once they return home, she prepares her soul-self to teleport them home.

But not before a familiar aura assaults her senses.

Picking up that Raven has tensed up, Robin makes his way to her. Placing his gloved hand on her shoulder he asks, "Everything ok?"

"It can't be," she whispers, not even making eye contact with the boy wonder.

The wind inexplicably picks on the street, loose debris (discarded newspapers, fast food bags/wrappers, etc.) converging on to one spot forming a small-scale cyclone. The wind picks up its speed as a space in the center of the airstream begins twist and distort into small black hole.

 _Not a black hole, a portal._

The maelstrom intensifies further. The point of blackness begins to grow, the space distorting more and more. The wind storm finally reaches a point where it begins to die down, where the portal is now seeming the size a person could fit through.

All the titans save for one, ripped from their fleeting merriment and tentative party plans prepare themselves.

A figure emerges, the portal closing behind him. The figure stands a head or two taller than Cyborg. He's wearing dirty and scuffed-up black boots. His pants torn-up in random places. His top is a long sleeved shortened robe, similarly torn and of the same color of his pants. A flat nose and four glowing red eyes adorning his face, brows creased in an unreadable emotion. His long snow-white hair sits on his shoulders, he blinks. Upon opening his eyes again, he seemingly loses a pair of eyes the glow of which restricts dully to his iris'. What stands out most however is the angry red skin that resembles the demon lieutenant they had just defeated.

His eyes go straight to Raven. The other four titans tense up waiting Robin's signature call to action.

The line of his black lips break, it appears as if he's snarling at her to the other titans.

Robin no longer content with waiting for the other shoe to drop he yells, "TITANS…"

"STOP!" the call of Raven halts them. "Papa," she says quietly to herself.

Before any of them can comprehend what's happening, Raven shoots herself at the figure as hard and fast as her power allows her to. Impacting the figure, Raven throws her arms around the figure's neck, he responds in kind.

"Okay. Now I'm really freaked out!" says Beast Boy.

"Ignore him." Raven tells the figure.

Braking their hold on one another, the figure states, smiling with mirth, "Dearest Raven, you've grown into a beautiful young woman. The last I saw you, you here just a little girl now look at you!"

"Dad…" she says bashfully, blushing as she playfully punches the figure in the shoulder.

"Dad!?" all four titans say, hilariously stupefied looks on their faces.

Turning back to her friends, Raven introduces the figure, "Everyone, this is my father, Trigon."

"Good to see you all." He stated as he waived lazily.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one's going to be a bit of a divergence. It's background on this version of Trigon. Still don't own Teen Titans. Or Batman. Or Doctor Fate. Or Zatanna.**

3\. A Story to Tell

"Mr. Nelson!" a secretary calls out.

The older gentleman, answering the call makes his to the receptionist's area. "I imagine he's ready for me?"

"Yes sir! Mr. Wayne will see you now."

Taking that as his cue he makes his way around the reception's area to the automatic glass doors. Just before they part for him he sees in white bold lettering:

 **BRUCE WAYNE**

 **OWNER & CHAIRMAN OF THE BORAD**

 **OF WAYNE ENTERPRISES, INC.**

Passing the threshold, he makes his way toward the ordinate, expansive desk made of some indiscriminate wood. Behind the desk he sees Bruce Wayne, alter ego of the Batman, leaning back into a large black leather chair. He's wrapped in a black suit some with a white shirt and a black tie. Likely of some designer 's or another's brand. _Tailored exactly for him I bet._

Bruce has his eyes trained intently on a dark-haired woman leisurely sitting on the desk, who's speaking to him. She's wearing a dark blue suit jacket with a similarly colored pencil skirt. Her look his completed with nylon stockings and black flats.

"Kent." Bruce says now training his eyes to The Sorcerer Supreme.

Upon acknowledging their new guest, the woman turns to face Kent. _Zatanna._

"Oh Zatanna, I didn't expect you to be here."

"That makes two of us." Say Bruce, cracking a smirk.

"Oh, shut up!" She responds to Bruce as she leaves the perch of the desk to greet Kent Nelson properly. "Call me curious. I wanted to know what exactly we could be dealing with."

"Well, we might not be having to deal with anything." Says Kent.

"How can you say that!? This is Trigon, the Terrible we're dealing with! I don't…"

"Zee," Bruce interjects, "We're not here to argue, Kent just tell us what we need to know. Just how powerful are they?"

"Well I guess I'll start with the weakest of the bunch, though to call Arella Roth weak would be gross underestimation of her abilities."

"She's just a human, right?" Asks Zatanna.

"Yes, though her proficiency for the arcane leaves me questioning her lineage. According to Trigon, who was her first instructor, she took to the mystical arts faster than any being he's ever seen."

"Trigon taught Arella?" Inquired Bruce.

"Well, yes. He mated her and as powerful as Trigon is even he can't be everywhere at once to protect his love and his progeny."

"Love? Don't make me laugh!" Zatanna said indignantly. "Demons aren't capable of love."

 _You'd be wrong I'm afraid, my dear._

"You'd be surprised what love can do." He looks to both Bruce and Zatanna knowingly. "Anyway, Trigon had mostly taught Arella spells and magics designed to protect herself from the members of The Church of Blood. While not the most mystically inclined of people, outside of the Bloods of course, they would be a handful for any regular human. But her second teacher taught her most of what she knows now. Her second instructor was none other than last high priestess of Azarath, Azar."

"Hmm, so that's where he took her after she left my protection." Says Bruce.

"That would be correct. Under Azar's tutelage Arella developed into quite the little sorceress, I'd she can rival your abilities." He finishes, gesturing to Zatanna.

"OK," says Bruce, "tell me about Raven."

"Ah, the apple of her father's eye that one. Gods help anyone foolish enough to threaten her. The one even more fool hardy to lay a hand on her," Kent shutters, "I wouldn't wish such fate on the worst of people. Raven's curse is her gift. Much of her abilities are tied to her soul-self and/or her emotions, and her level of calmness or emotional distress can dampen or amplify her already potent abilities. Her soul-self, as its name implies the physical manifestation of her soul. Once manifested it can appear physically as a black raven in an energetic state, incredibly cold to the touch. It can also project itself from her body as a blast of dark light, she can use it for short range teleportation, shield generation for herself or others, flight/levitation, and she can completely separate the soul-self from her physical body for as using it for astral projection, possession and for scouting if necessary. I've also seen it encompass objects as large as an eighteen-wheeler yet concentrated enough to cover a penny. Furthermore, she's an empath, able to sense and consume the emotions of others. Plus, she's got a healing factor, expected of one of demonic heritage and she's also able to heal others by taking a bit of the damage unto herself. I currently don't know the limit to her healing or any of her abilities for that matter. Not too mention her competence has a sorceress, she has the potential to surpass her mother. Azar even. She may even surpass Trigon one day."

"I shutter to think of two demons that powerful running around." Said Zatanna.

"Empathy…" Mutters Bruce. "Isn't that a genetic trait? An Azarathian trait?" he inquires.

"Exactly. Which is another reason why I'm skeptical of Arella's parentage. To build on your point Bruce, empathy is an Azarathian genetic trait passed on _maternally_ most of the time." Answers Kent.

"Hmm… Tell me about Trigon. What is he exactly?"

"A simple yet, complicated answer. Let me preface by telling you: _the path to hell is paved with good intentions._ Trigon was once an Azarathian who's name has been lost to history. He was the progeny of an Azarathian man and the Arch Demoness Lilith, the Impious."

"Self-proclaimed goddess of lust and seduction, I'm familiar." Says Zatanna.

"Yes, well that aside, the first Azarathians* had the arrogant notion that they can purge all the negative emotions from themselves. Being a pacifist society, certain emotions can be interpreted as aggressive. Anger, hatred, jealousy, etc. were practically thought of as atrocities among the ancient culture."

"But it's impossible to permanently remove emotions from yourself!" Cried Zatanna.

"A lesson ancient Azarathians learned the hard way."

"Where did the man that became Trigon play into all of this?" Asked Bruce.

"He volunteered to be the vessel where all the purged emotions would be contained. And when emotion is given physical form it basically becomes energy, in this case of negative sepctrum. It also exacerbated the situation that those Azarathians are as mystically inclined as they are today. It was said that when all the negative emotions where given corporal from, it resembled a great roaring inferno. Suffice to say, when the unnamed Azarathian was bestowed the emotions it amplified his already demonic heritage. It tore his physical body apart in a hellish firestorm. His skin, bones, muscle and sinew became atomized dust scattering to the winds. But, oddly enough where his body once was, that inferno still raged on. The Azarathians acted quickly though, banishing the _burning hatred personified_ to a dimension between not exactly this one, but not the next either. It was an infinitely dark and abyssal dimension Trigon has since claimed as his own."

"Do you know how he eventually gained the physical form he has today." Inquired Zatanna.

"That I'm not sure. I theorize that the soul of the nameless Azarathian remained bound to the personified flaming emotions when they were ejected from Azarath. I'd imagine there was a period where eventually the soul regained sentience and using it's demonic power and the magically infused influence of thousands of Azarathians to gain or create a physical form."

"How powerful is he?" Requested Bruce.

"Incredibly." Kent simply responds. "Raven inherited his healing factor and like I said I don't know the limits of hers. He has a soul-self much like Raven's, but it's not hindered by his emotions. Though carrying much of the same abilities as Raven's, Trigon's soul-self manifests itself in the form of a serpent when released from his body. It can be deathly black like Raven's and cold as the most frigid of tundra; to as blue and hot as the hottest stars in the universe. It can amplify gravity in a given amount of space, can manifest solidly as any object Trigon desires and can even project copies of other beings, though the copies themselves are under Trigon's control. The soul-self can also connect any two points in existence, making interdimensional travel child's play. Also, much like Raven's it can envelop objects, however Trigon's has the potential to envelop in his own words 'anything my senses can encompass', leaving its potential for destruction completely up to the imagination. And let's not forget the mystical influence of the emotions that led to his origins. That left him with enough magically capcity to make the spirt of Nabu's brow sweat."

"Do you know type of spells he prefers?" Zatanna asks quietly.

"He prefers his own demonic power, but I've known him to use spells that summon familiars and pyro- kinetic spells."

"Any weaknesses?" Requests Bruce.

"Being a demon, he's subject to spells, objects and weapons designed to counter-act his kind. But unless created by an incredibly powerful sorceress or sorcerer, I doubt those would slow him down for long."

"Would you be able to stop him if it came down to it?" Asked Zatanna.

"I wouldn't," said Kent. "Nabu has been bound to much more powerful sorcerers than me, and at those times only managed to fight him to a standstill. And at no great consequence to my far-flung predecessors. Trigon's the main reason why it was decided a lord of order such as Nabu was commissioned to take action."

Bruce and Zatanna stare ahead at nothing, dumbfounded by this info dump.

Breaking the stupor, Bruce asks, "What I don't get is what caused him to abandon his destructive ways?"

"It's like I said Bruce, you'd be surprised what love can do." Kent answers.

"You don't mean, Arella do you? I heard he stopped conquering centuries ago you don't mean…"

"He does love Arella, no doubt. But it wasn't her who changed him." Kent stands reaching inside his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. He throws it on the desk. He takes his leave, heading toward the automatic glass doors of the office. "Bruce, Zatanna, you have my best," he waves lazily as the doors open.

On the desk sits the photo, the image of a woman. Thought that's not quite right. It's a picture of a painting of young woman. A woman that looks scarily similar to Arella…


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Still don't own Teen Titans. This one-shot contains a concept I plan to expand on in a different story. Don't want to drop too many hints in an A/N, so I hope you all will stick with me.**

* * *

4\. False Hope

Azarath had been invaded.

Augustus, the brother of Trigon, in his bid to take the title of "The Terrible", had amassed a considerable force of allies to his side.

However, Augustus had underestimated his opposition and spread his efforts incredibly thin and had fought a war on three fronts (on earth versus the Titans, versus the army of Azarath, and versus Trigon himself).

The last Azar had foreseen the coming threat from Trigon's kin and had militarized Azarath. No question the decision was met with great controversy, breaking the many thousands of years of the precedent of being a pacifist realm. Many in Azarath (including other members of leadership) had blamed the threat on Azar's, and more specifically, Raven's and Arella's connection to Trigon. But contrary to what one may think of the people of Azarath, many men and women had volunteered. In doing so many were disowned by their respective families, friends and shunned in public as pariahs due to their choice to defend their world.

Trigon had come across the sight of the main conflict. He walks the area; littered everywhere is the bodies of demons, Azarathians and scorch marks where the forms a of certain type of flame familiar (which Trigon is very familiar with) would be if they weren't vanquished. Eventually he comes a across the fortified walls and gate of the main entrance of the metropolis of Azarath. In front of the gate is a contingent of a few dozen Azarathians, guarding the gate no doubt because of the recent conflict. A figure in white comes to the head of the crowd.

 _Arella…_

Her usual white cloak and leotard is strewn in cuts and caked in dirt and blood. _That of foe and friend alike one would wager._ A look of sullen determination is on her face; her usual expressive blue eyes dull to all they survey, full lips in a thin line, her black eye brows creased in concentration. Upon noticing the approaching Trigon, the hard look on her face immediately melts replaced with relief. She drops the spear and shield she was holding and sprints to the encroaching demon. Her hood falls as she runs toward Trigon, shoulder length black hair now subject to the wind.

Reaching him she throws her arms around his body squeezing his him as hard as she can. He responds by wrapping his arms around her.

"Is Augustus… Is he defeated?" she asks breaking the embrace.

"I took care of him." Trigon says sullenly. "My brother is…" he hesitates, "was trounced."

Taking in his appearance she notices Trigon isn't without wear himself. His body is bare for all to care to see. His slender yet muscular body littered with cuts and bruises from a very recent battle. His red hands having a small amount of dirt on them.

"How are things on this front?" Says Trigon.

"We managed to push them back. They didn't reach breach the walls. The contingent we faced was mostly those fire familiars. They were incredibly hard to fight back. I'd imagine their sudden disappearance was the result of their master meeting his end."

She looks to Trigon for confirmation of the theory. He nods in the affirmative.

"We lost more than a few good people today. I will honor their memories with the other soldiers, I don't know if the populace would celebrate what was sacrificed today. The surviving soldiers are surveying the city for any holdovers of Augustus' forces, we're guarding the gate to make sure none approach from the front." Arella's eyes begin to tear up as she looks away from Trigon. "I hope I never have to deal with anything this horrible again. Those demons I've killed… I know I had to defend Azarath, but…" she pauses. "I felt the life leave them as they died, Trigon. Not just them, but that of our allies as they died too. I'm not sure I could ever do that again."

Trigon pulls her close once more, laying a kiss to her chakra stone. "You're safe, my love. Azarath is safe. And unless I miss my guess our daughter is safe."

Tears still falling she shoots Trigon a smile, not bothering to correct him calling her his 'love.'

A commotion among the soldiers catches their attention.

It appears a figure in regal, grey robes is barking orders and complaints to the soldiers.

His already older appearance magnified by the grimace on his face. His teeth going up and down as if gnawing, dripping on his grey bread spittle is being spewed carelessly as continues incessant bellowing.

"Councilman Younger!" Yells Arella, "what's the meaning of this?"

"Angela," he spits contemptuously, "as if I owe you an explanation."

She scoffs, "It's Arella, councilman, and as long as I sit at Azar's chair, you will answer to me. Now explain!" She says leaving no room for argument.

"'Arella'", he condescends using air quotes, "as if you've ever lived up to the name. Quite the opposite it seems. Carrying on with HIS kind. I still maintain this is your doing. Laying with demons."

"Younger I suggest you tread lightly." Warns Trigon.

"Is that a threat, demon?" The elder councilman spits.

Trigon snarls bearing his teeth. "You think I know not your role in this entire ordeal."

Councilman Younger scoffs indignantly, "Now you levy claims against me, and speak to me as if you have dominion over me." Younger spits at Trigon in disgust. "To what proof do you have?"

"Your aura's seeping of that of a demonic influence. My brother's influence." Trigon invades Councilman Younger's personal space, putting himself directly in the elder's face, "And my dominions are well known to me councilman, thank you."

The elder councilman turns white as sheet.

His anxiety assaults Arella's senses immediately. She signals a few of the soldiers over to where they're standing. Councilman Younger and herself had had their differences in the past, but to betray his own realm?

"Councilman, please tell me, did you betray us to Augustus?"

"I would never betray Azarath he declares. Clearly this demon," he says spitting once again, "is…"

"And what is it I'm going councilman? Bewitching denizens of Azarath for an effort for power. No, I abandoned any desire I had for power long ago." Responds Trigon.

"Is this true councilman?" Asks a soldier. Several other among the dozen or so soldiers are mummering among themselves.

His anxiety mounting at the accusation, Younger flairs what little of Augustus' power he has creating a shockwave knocking everyone present off their feet. He chants a small incantation, suppressing the magic of all present. He produces a dagger and he lunges for Arella, taking her hostage.

Everyone present returns to their as soon they can, the soldiers setting their weapons at the ready.

"Everyone stand back, or she dies!" Yells Younger, pressing the blade to Arella's throat.

"Lower your weapons, please," says Trigon.

"Whatever damage this traitor does, can your healing ability not heal it?" Asks a soldier.

"No, look closely at his blade, it's runes are specifically made to counter act demons. There's nothing I'd be able to do for any wound inflicted by that blade." Says Trigon.

"Councilman Younger, why have you betrayed us," asks Arella sadly. Tears pooling once again, she continues, "If I die today, I at least deserve to know."

"Your position, dear Angela. For you to become the lead of our people, not being native and consorting with and siring demons was the ultimate insult. I've spent more than half of my life working my up through the political system. With nothing to show. And then Augustus showed up, he promised me the reigns over Azarath, once it was conquered. All I had to do was let him in our relam."

"You're the one who weakened the barriers of our world, allowing our enemies in. Your people died today because of your treachery Younger!" Cried one soldier.

"Of course, I was the one of the elder mages who built the damn barriers to protect our world from their kind. It was I who let in Augustus to infect the unborn Raven with Trigon's influence, ensuring the sires prophesy would come to bear. It was I who let Augustus in when he killed Lady Azar. And was I who let in the army that attacked our world today. Those men and women were necessary sacrifices, and the lot of the others would've been had things gone to plan. Lady Azar had clearly lost her way, breaking thousands of years of traditions, allowing complete outsiders, demons even in to our world. And to cast her favor, not on me who gave many, many years of good service to the good Azarath, but to some demon, his abomination of child and his whore companion." He sneers in look of revulsion. "We needed new leadership. Who better than I. She got what was coming to her. Her affection for you demon," Younger gestures at Trigon, "I'll never understand for as long as I live."

Trigon begins to laugh.

"And what is so funny, demon."

"You, pathetic little Azarathian. And what, you think you would lead these people into prosperity. In your bid for power, in your bid to protect the world you love, you've become that which you hate. Have you not realized what my brother's influence have done to you? Do you not think you being manipulated? Had you ever considered that my origins lie in Azarath?" Having enough of the being holding his love hostage, he flairs a fragment of his soul-self. Entrapping his hand before Younger can ever realize what's happening.

"But the incantation!?" Screams Younger.

"Quells and numbs magic. My soul-self isn't magic, you old fool. And you've left yourself completely defenseless." Trigon approaches Younger, pulling Arella from his hold. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I just need this day to end." Says Arella tiredly.

"What's to be done with Younger?"

Signing, clearly knowing what she responds, "Do what must be done…"

"Xavier," Trigon calls to one of the soldiers, "please escort Arella home if you would."

"No problem, sir."

"Will you come to see me?" Asks Arella before she makes her way to gate.

"I will, later. I'd like to visit Raven after this."

"So be it," she says, taking her leave.

"Now for you, councilman. That spell of yours should wearing off soon."

"Now as a matter of fact. Prepare…" Before Younger can finish his thought, the remaining soldiers chat a modified incantation of the one he used earlier. The modification: Younger is sole target of magical nullification.

Knowing what he's facing, Younger begins to cry, snorting and begging for his life. Falling on deaf years, the soldier begins to leave. Leaving Younger to his fate, alone with **Trigon the Terrible**.

Trigon's second set of eyes open as they begin to glow a sinister red. The hand of the councilman covered in Trigon's soul-self begins to glow and heat in a roaring blaze enveloping his whole body as Trigon begins to chant an incantation of his own:

 _ **Succendam ignem extinguere urat animam meam carnem et ossa sit satis. At ego ne consistere tuo in novissimis cinis est folliculi pertineret huius ambusti corporalis. Hoc quamdiu anima ardeat sambucae, terribilis atque incensa odio Scath Azarath personam existit.***_

The fires then intensify, Younger's begging and crying becoming inhuman wails. Trigon opens a portal to an uninhabited dimension sparing the realm of Azarath form the further taint of Elder Councilman Younger.

* * *

 **A/N: Boy was this a chore, I ended up re-writing this this thing about 6 times before I was satisfied with a final version. I hope you guys enjoyed it!**

 ***Translated from latin: Enflamed soul of my existence ignite the fire that will extinguish his flesh and bones soon enough. But do not halt thy self when the last ash of this physical husk is scorched. For this fire will burn his soul for as long as Trigon, the Terrible, Scath himself and the burning hatred of Azarath personified, exists.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Still don't own it. By 'it' I mean Teen Titans. Little bit of BBRae and sister-brother CyRae in this one-shot.**

* * *

5\. Drown

It's been a while since they were able to be this close to one another. Between protecting the city, Robin's ever-present training sessions, and Raven being recruited into daddy-daughter time, it's been a rather trying time find to find time be with one another.

Not that it wasn't inherently challenging anyway.

What with Raven wanting to keep the romance between her and the changeling a secret.

But that's not important.

What's important is Gar's hands exploring the curves and peaks of Raven's body.

The desperate, hungry kisses they both pepper each other with, the pent-up frustration of not being able to enjoy each finally being released.

That is until…

A black portal opens in the middle if the room. Trigon emerged from the portal taking in the sight before him. Beast Boy's bare green back, his arms and legs tangled up with his daughter's. His dearest Raven in her bra, though everything else is modestly covered by the green changeling being on top of her.

Completely and utterly dumbfounded, Raven and Gar and Trigon stare each other down for seemingly an eternity, before Trigon scoffs, barring his teeth as approaches the door. He doesn't even to punch in the code opting to phase through it instead.

Mortified that the ridiculously powerful, almost god-like interdimensional demon lord who happens to be the father of the love his life just walked in on them, Gar detangles himself from his girlfriend, throwing himself on his back and begins to laugh nervously to himself. "I'm alive," he mutters, nervous laughter not letting up, "I'm alive, I for sure saw my life flash before my eyes when he teleported in here."

"Don't tempt me Gar, day's not over yet." Responds Raven, her own mortification apparent on her face.

* * *

"Victor!" Yells Trigon, making his way to the common room. "Victor, where are you!?" He screams again.

Coming upon the common room, he looks around, seeing Starfire playing with Silky, and Robin at the main computer.

"Trigon?" Inquires Starfire inquires, flying up to Trigon Silky in her arms. "To what do we pay your visit?"

"It's 'owe your visit', Star," Robin instinctually corrects. "Though I'm curious as why you're here."

"That's not important, I'm must talk to Victor," says Trigon exasperated.

"Did something happen with Raven?" Questions Robin, Trigon's visible irritation alarming Robin.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking." Answers Trigon.

"What is it?" Says Robin.

Trigon, realizing his own vexation is causing a bit of stir among the two titans in front of him, he takes a deep breath, calming himself. "To what is the nature of the relationship of the changeling and my daughter?"

 _Nature of their relationship?_

It's obvious to anyone who spends any length of time around Raven and Garfield. They're head-over-heels for each other. It almost hurts it's so obvious.

Robin, acting on pure instinct, puts his hands over Starfire's mouth before she makes grand exclamations of Beast Boy's undying love for Raven or vice-versa. If something happened involving Raven's love life, it's best to not insert one's self into it. Especially if their current romantic relationship is supposed to be a secret. Not that they're any good at hiding it. And especially when it's apparent that said love life is agitating Raven's very powerful demon lord father.

"Nothing!" Clams Robin. "Just very good friends. Come on Star, we've got, uh…something to do. A date. Yes, a date, I'm taking you to dinner."

"Oh yes, a date," she says picking up Robin's hints. "But Raven…"

"Is very good friends with Beast Boy. Come on, let's go!" He says dragging Starfire to anywhere but here.

 _Yeah, best not to get involved at all…_

"Hey, T, what's up man?" Says a voice behind him.

Trigon turns around, revealing the metallic silver, white and glowing blue frame of Cyborg.

"Raven says you've been looking, or more like screaming for me. What's up?"

"Do you still have that, what did you call it? Secret stash?"

"Uh, did something happen? Raven said you might be upset, but she didn't say about what."

Trigon not sure how to tell him what he saw then demands, "I need what's in your secret stash Victor!" He finished grabbing Cyborg by the shoulders.

"Fine, fine. Don't yell, just don't drink it all man."

* * *

It's not unreasonable that a man gets a break every once in a while. Victor Stone, better known as Cyborg to the public, is a firm believer in such concept. Victor juggles a lot of personalities in his life. He no doubt loves them all very much, but they all have a tendency to (on occasion) stress him the fuck out. Victor finds himself taking this dedicated time to himself with old school hip-hop, Top Gear reruns, and, the secret stash of which Trigon's on about, brown liquor.

Which leads to his current situation.

Trigon had refused to tell what had he and Raven so upset. About four drinks in, Trigon revealed that he had walked in Raven and Beast Boy 'in the act' (Trigon's words).

This went over about as well as one would expect with Victor. He immediately broke into hysterics, exclaiming, "Glad it wasn't me!" This prompted Trigon to give Victor his blood line's patented glowing four-eyed stare, Cyborg responded by refilling Trigons glass. He wouldn't incinerate me, I think.

Eventually Trigon had more than his fill of liquor. And that, brought out certain aspects of Trigon's personality Victor would rather not deal with.

Trigon was a very introspective, mopey drunk. _Can't hold his booze very good either._

Trigon is currently ranting about Raven, "She's my baby girl, Victor!"

"Well you can't really expect her to stay a baby forever, and Gar's a good dude. He'll take good care of her."

"You know, Vic," slurs Trigon, "I used to hold her, just like this." He holds his arms out as one holds a baby, but he's starting to tip forward. "She was so innocent, so precious. I don't want her to grow up, Vic!"

Victor goes over to Trigon, making sure he doesn't tip over.

"Yeah, well, you can't stop that no sooner than you can stop the sun from rising."

"Won't you humor a drunken old demon, Victor?"

"Sure, T, sure." Laughs Cyborg.

Victor's T-communicator starts to ring at that point.

"Cy," he answers.

"Is, uh, my dad still with you?" It's Raven.

"Girl, your ears must've been burning. We were just talking about you. But yeah, he's with me in my room, drunk as a skunk, trying to will his baby girl to stop growing. Is it working?"

He can practically hear Raven massage her temples in frustration. "I'm on my way to get him out of your hair. You must be tired of him by now."

"Yeah, just about. Plus, the long throat bastard cleaned out my stash."

"But, you had about 8 bottles put up?"

"Yeah, **had**."

"Well I'll see you in a bit."

In a few minutes there's a knock on the door. Cyborg makes his way to it, punching in the code to reveal a causally dressed Raven and Beast Boy.

"You know you guys aren't really that slick." Asks Cyborg.

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you mean Victor?"

"Come on! I mean you two! You one of Robin's safe-guards for the Tower is monitoring any and all heat signatures in the tower."

"And?" Asks Gar.

"I mean occasionally, before bed either Robin or I would see where everyone was according to their heat signature, and occasionally one of your rooms would be empty and the other one of your rooms would register two heat signatures." Says Cyborg smiling knowingly at the couple.

They simply stare back at him.

"Is that Gar's shirt?"

"Not important," Raven storms her way past Cyborg, toward Trigon. "Dad?"

"Dearest Raven!" Exclaims Trigon, bounding towards her unceremoniously. He lands on his knees right in front of Raven, pulling her into an embrace. "My baby girl!" He weeps.

She shushes him, awkwardly hugging him back. "I can't believe you let him drink." She snaps to Cyborg.

"Eh," says Cyborg as he shrugs. "When an infinitely powerful arch-demon-lord-person asks for a drink, who am I to risk my skin and deny him?"

Raven gives Cyborg a shrug of her own. "I'll take him a spare room, Gar, can you give me a hand?"

At the mention at her beau's name, Trigon immediately makes eye contact with the changeling. His two eyes split into four glowing ones, and points to his eyes then to Gar's in a 'I'm watching you' type motion.

"I've got a, uh, see in ya bed Rae!" Says Beast Boy, running for his life.

"Figures…" says Raven, very much done with the men in her life.

"I'll help you, "says Cyborg.

Cyborg stands the drunken Trigon up before putting him on his shoulders in a fireman's carry position.

Raven leads to the way to a spare room. Luckily, they don't have travel far as there's an abundance of spare rooms on this floor.

Raven moves the bland dark blue blanket back as Cyborg places Trigon on the bed. As he walks off, he mutters something about 'long throat demons drinking me dry' as he makes his way out the room.

She tucks him in, kisses him on his cheek, and starts to make her way out of the room, but not before he grabs her by the hand. "You'll always be my baby girl Raven. I wish I had more of an opportunity to watch you grow up. I missed so much of your life dealing with the ordeal Augustus had caused. It feels like I just turned around one day, and my dearest little girl is now a grown woman."

"Papa," Raven responds, "the good news is you don't have to miss any more, mother either. And don't be so hard on Garfield, he's a very good man. He's been very good to me."

"He better…" Says Trigon, as he rolls over to go to sleep.

"Good night, Papa."

Raven walks out the room meeting Cyborg down the hall. He insists that he walk Raven to her room.

"That father of yours…" Says Cyborg.

"Yep."

"One thing I wonder about though."

"And that is?"

"His he 'papa' all the time, or just when no ones around?" Asks Cyborg, shit eating grin across his face.

"Don't know," sighs Raven, "does Robin know you have a secret stash of alcohol?"

Cyborg scoffs, grin widening, "Does he? Who do you think I'm hiding it from!?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Owner ship of Teen Titans doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

Chapter 6. First Impressions

Jump City's resident group of heroes had just returned from an alert (and the obligatory pizza place visit) when they came across the scene in their common area.

Trigon, not being partial to using doors, often teleports. When the tower is occupied this doesn't really cause an issue. But in instances like this, when the tower's empty (from answering an alert, attending a mandatory event, etc.), there's what Robin calls minimum security protocol or what was later begrudgingly acknowledged as a burglar-alarm. Which said alarm had been tripped while our heroes were doing their job.

Cyborg's immediate suspicion was Trigon, which wasn't incorrect upon coming across what's happening in the common area.

Trigon's brought company…

The person, a woman he was conversing with immediately stands. She's stacked and tall, towering above Starfire's height though still shorter than Cyborg. Her skin is of a pale-peach hue, almost glowing. She's wearing a black form-fitting long sleeved shoulderless dress, the hem of which reaches just above her knees. The shoulder-line of the dress is low showing a bit of cleavage, and there's mark or tattoo just above that. Upon closer inspection it's a stylized red ' **S** ' with dashes in the loops of the letter.

 _The mark of scath…_

Her eyes, accented by her small round nose, are trained on the young heroes, which appear to red in color. Her full lips are cured into the smile of one who's seeing a beloved family member for the first time in a long time. Her black hair appears long, cascading over each shoulder and behind her back. She then takes both her hands, runs the through her hair, and positions the locks behind her.

"Who's the babe?" Blurts Beast Boy.

"Babe?" Answers Trigon, Raven, and the mystery woman, the former two's eyes splitting into four.

The woman begins to laugh, shoulders bouncing with the action. "Oh, you two stop," she admonishes the two demons in the room. "Don't damn the poor boy for having good taste. Though, I do sense a great affection for purple haired young lady behind you." She finishes, pointing her index finger at Beast Boy. "I sense the feeling is mutual. I must say though, were this verdant young man my mate, I would've gouged his eyes out…"

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Interrupts Robin.

"Dearest Trigon, where are your manners?" The woman answers. "Introduce me!"

Trigon sighs deeply, to which the woman responds with a small scowl.

"Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy, _Raven_ ," he says, emphasizing his daughter's name, "this is my mother, Lilith." He finished, gesturing to Lilith.

Cyborg's the first to come forward, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you ma'am, I'm Cyborg. I'm sure Trigon's told you all about me?"

"Yes, he has, I'd like to thank you for taking care of him when he's had too much to drink. He never could hold his hooch." Responds Lilith, shaking his hand.

Taking Cyborg's lead, Robin and Starfire step forward. "I'm Robin," say the boy wonder, extending his own hand for a proper greeting.

"Yes, the lead of this team of young heroes. I apologize for seemingly threatening the green one." Says Lilith shaking Robin's extended hand. "We demons are a possessive lot," she says, laughing at the implication of her statement, her eyes trained to Raven and Beast Boy.

Starfire then makes her move, pouncing on the demoness enveloping her in a hug.

"That's quite an embrace you've got there," says Lilith through gritted teeth. "Do you mind…?"

"Sorry," says an embarrassed Starfire, stepping away from Lilith, "I'm simply most excited to meet a new friend."

"Trigon said you were a hugger," she motions Starfire closer, then pulls the former Princess of Tamaran into a hug of her own. "So am I!" Yells Lilith.

Starfire giggles as she returns the embrace with a little less gusto than before.

Raven then clears her throat, curiosity obvious on her face.

"Oh, Raven." States Lilith, as if she's testing out her granddaughter's name for the first time. "Would like one too?" She says as she and Starfire release one another.

"Not really, I don't do hugs." States Raven plainly.

"Really?" Says Lilith, clapping both of her hands together, "I have it on good authority that you do…"

"Dad…" says Raven, annoyance beginning to creep on to her face.

"What? Was that supposed to be a secret?" Says Trigon feigning innocence. He continues, shrinking further under his daughter's intensifying stare. "Am I just supposed ignore my mother when she asks to be appraised of her only granddaughter?"

Raven takes a deep breath, agitation dissipating from her being. "This isn't the first time us meeting, is it?"

"No dear, I've met you once when you were just barley a few weeks old. You were a beautiful baby, dear Raven. I'm happy to see you've grown into a lovely young woman." Said Lilith, genuine smile stretching across her features.

"Um…Is the world ending again?" Blurts Beast Boy. "I mean the last time a member of Raven's family that wasn't Trigon, the world was pretty much destroyed."

Lilith's smile leaves her eyes, but her lips retain it. "Unfortunately, things aren't that dire. I simply wished to visit my one and only granddaughter."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The author of following claims no ownership of Teen Titans.**

* * *

Chapter 7. A Brother's Quarrel

A small landmass floats in an endless darkness.

 _Darkness damn-near everywhere._

Almost all-encompassing, one can occasionally observe large embers glowing as the landform floats through the infinite black void.

And if one so cared.

If those embers were to be approached.

One would observe man-shaped shadows writhing within the fires as the embers continue to burn.

And if one was **really** curious in their approach, they would wonder why there's faint wails seemingly coming from those shadows…

"So, this is what The House of Scath has come to," said Augustus bitterly. "To delegate to nothing in a dead dimension, just waiting to die?"

Trigon eyes his brother gloomily, preparing himself for another rant about how 'power is the only thing that matters', or something to that effect.

Even as a general in Trigon armies, Augustus' lust for power was always insatiable. Always after the next conquest. Big or small, Augustus carried out Trigon's senseless, bloody campaigns with gusto. He relished his position as Trigon's right hand.

It was even Augustus' own desire for more power that was in one part responsible in Trigon abandoning his endless crusades against existence.

"It's not so bad, dear." Says Lilith. "Though you make it sound as if he's a do-nothing layabout. He doesn't reside in this dreadful place all that often. The castle is a nice touch Trigon," Lilith gestures to the mass of brick and mortar behind them, "but still endless darkness as far as the eye can see? How do you deal with it?"

"I like it. It's quiet. Helps me think." Trigon responds to his mother.

Augustus scoffs at his assembled family. Augustus had long abandoned the hope that his brother would return to his old ways. "Do you not care to restore us to our former glory dear brother?"

"Is this what you wanted to discuss with us dear? I would've thought that congratulations would've been in order. You know your brother's to be a father soon?" Replied Lilith.

"With that lowly, pitiful human? You actually laid with her?" Said Augustus, flaring his soulself, small red eyes splinting into glowing fours. "Congratulations are the last thing I would give with that news." He finishes, spitting to the ground in disgust.

Sensing an escalation, Lilith steps toward her younger son, attempting to calm him down. She places her peach-pale hands on his face, forcing him look at her.

Augustus is much leaner than Trigon. He stands about 4 inches shorter than his brother. As a testament to his love of power, he continues to wear the armor that battled in so long ago. It's an opulent shine of silver, with blood red accent designs and a similarly colored insignia of the Mark of Scath on the chest/abdomen area. The shoulders of armor protrude in an upward curve, a visible seam going down the middle of each. The upward curve reaches its apex in a sharp looking pointed end. The beautiful silver of the armor continues, reaching down Augustus' bicep, breaking into yet another seam at the elbow. Through the seam, chain mail can be seen underneath, acting as an under armor. Beyond the seam the armor goes beyond the forearms, completed at the finger tips, which are sharpened to resemble claws. There's no armor around the crotch area, likely allowing for better ease of movement. What sits there however is what appears to be black pants. The armor coverage of the lower body continues at about a quarter way down the thighs. The plate covering of the thighs ends at another seam at the knees, which are rounded and protruding. The armor is completed down the shins, instep and feet, which resemble long boots.

Lilith's peach-pale hands contrast with Augustus' angry red skin. She caresses his angular face with her thumbs. Her attempt at claiming his seems to work, as his white eye brows relax, his pointed nose losing the wrinkles of agitation, his blacks lips return to a thin line, hiding his previously barred fangs. He closes his four glowing red, turning them back into two. He then relaxes his soulself.

"Thank, you dear. Despite the differences between you, I'd rather not see my boys fight."

"Hmph…"

Augustus spots yet another of the embers coming to pass, as the land mass continues to float through the realm. He abruptly breaks his mother's caring hold on his face, knocking her down in the process.

"Augustus!" Yells Trigon as his brother flies toward the fire, Augustus' hair flowing with the action.

Approaching the ember, Augustus' armored hands begin to glow white. He moves his left and right arms clockwise and counter clockwise, bringing his hands together the glowing intensifying. He opens his hands revealing a glowing white ball. The flaming embers are being sucked into the ball, the white glow being diluted as it absorbs more and more of the flames. The white glow of the orb is completely gone, as it's finished absorbing the flames. Augustus is now holding the flaming orb just above his armored hand. He closes it the orb being absorbed into him.

Trigon wills the floating island to halt. He then runs to Lilith, helping her up. They make their way to the end of the land mass. Augustus floating just above them.

"So, it would appear that this place has it's uses after all." Said Augustus.

"What are you planning, son?" Inquires Lilith. "Surely you've no use for a soul punished by your brother's hand?"

"It's not the soul that I took, mother. Merely the instrument of its punishment." Augustus turns his sight to his brother, "There's much one can do with a fragment of the soul of Trigon, the Terrible."

"You don't mean to enact the deceptive prophesy the Bloods have put forth, do you? Are you not aware I can walk the realms as I please?" Responds Trigon.

"How far along would you say your mate is? Five, six months maybe? Are you aware you'll be having a little girl, brother? Regardless, 'the gem shall be his portal.' I will restore the house of Scath one way or another. At the helm will be me, Augustus, the Terrible. You join me, brother. You join me or all you love will fall. Earth. Azarath. Arella."

Although he expected as much, Trigon is stunned into silence at the lengths it appears his brother is willing to go through for power as he stares the younger demon down.

"You silence seals your fate, brother."

Lilith is beside herself with grief at her youngest. "Stop this, Augustus! It's not too late to change. The path you're going down…"

"What of this path, mother? Please, I know where it would lead me. To the former glory of eons past. I would think considering what the realm of Azarath had nearly done to Trigon, you would be on board with my ambitions."

"You think I would forget such a thing," Yells Lilith. "I have long forgiven the sins of those from thousands of years past. Wanton death does not interest me, dear. Especially not the death of those who've nothing to do with the transgressions of the past."

"Will you choose to fall with this fool?"

"Silence yourself Augustus! You're acting like a petulant child. And how can I not think of you as a child, when you threaten me, your brother, his mate and his unborn child over such a petty little reason: discovering there's more to existence than power. I would've thought you'd follow your brother's example and abandon this thirst for conquering. Waging war causes nothing but undue suffering, no matter the reason. I know how this will end should you follow through. And I don't want to lose a son, I've nearly suffered such a loss before. Please don't make your mother suffer again, Augustus."

A portal opens behind Augustus. "Hmph, your suffering is your own." He says as he floats backward into the portal behind him.

Lilith begins to sob. Trigon broken from his stunned state, takes his mother into his arms. She welcomes the contact, laying her head on his chest. She returns his embrace, squeezing him for dear life. "What about you?" She asks. "Will you make your mother suffer the loss her child?"

Sadly, she already knows the answer…


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The author of following claims no ownership of Teen Titans. Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide.**

* * *

8\. Who I Am

* * *

 _Just a bit closer…_

 _Come on…_

 _A little_ _more…_

A brown cat snatches a piece of meat out of the hands of a young girl. The cat finishes its share just as fast as it snatched it. The feline expectantly looks to the young girl as if to ask for more as it licks its teeth.

 _OK little guy, I've got you._

The little girl reaches into a pocket of her white cloak, taking out a small clear bag within which wet meat can be seen. She goes to another pocket in the cloak, this time taking out a handkerchief. She places the cloth on the grass and pours the remaining meat on to it. The cat beings to eat its share of the splendor the girl has blessed it with.

The little girl takes in everything around her. From her perch on the opulent fountain she's sitting on, she can see the park is brimming with people and activity. Families enjoying a walk. Couples enjoying picknicks. Older gentleman enjoying games of chess. Occasionally a passerby lock eyes with the girl.

She can see and _feel_ what some their mouths don't say.

Fear.

Hate.

A few even have a barely restrained desire to take the matter into their own hands.

She pushes down how that makes her feel, for if an accident were to happen…

 _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos_

 _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos_

The cat has finished off the last of the meat and begins to purr in contentment. It rubs itself on its benefactor's legs. The girl's reverie is broken as the cat has gotten her attention.

The girl removes herself from her seat, taking a knee in front of the feline. She begins to pet the cat as its purrs continue. She then picks up the cat, retaking her seat at the fountain, placing the cat in her lap.

Yells of, "Raven! Raven! Raven!" can be heard in a nasally high-pitched voice as boy in a royal blue robe is running toward them.

"Xavier," answers Raven as he stops in front of her. She notices he's got his hand behind his back.

"Hey, Raven!" Says the winded Xavier. Despite having not yet caught his breath, Raven's senses are almost overwhelmed by the boy's almost overbearingly positive attitude. His sloping prominent nose is pointing straight at her as his upturned lips are causing his dimples to be more evident on his boyish caramel brown face. His green eyes are alight with joy at the sight of his friend.

 _Friend…_

People are funny. Azarathians especially. Despite the original Azarathians intent behind leaving the Earth behind, they are just as hateful, fearful, spiteful, discriminatory and willfully ignorant as those that inhabit Earth. Suffice to say, whenever Raven or her father is among the public, she's given a wide berth by some under the best of circumstances from the denizens of this dimension. Other Azarathians are somewhat bolder, letting the little girl know exactly how they feel about her very existence. Other than her mother, father, Azar and a few of Azar's understudies, Xavier had been one of the few people in this dimension to show her the smallest bit of common decency. When Raven's empathy had begun to manifest itself, she found herself even more distant to the people of Azarath. Either through his own ignorance of the common perception of her or because he doesn't care for such things, Xavier had sought out Raven's friendship much to her chagrin.

Xavier doesn't have any family of his own. His mother died giving birth, and his father handed the infant Xavier over to the monks of Azarath. He said something to the effect of, 'I'm not sure I can care for a child that killed wife.' He committed suicide soon after.

"You know, I saw these," said Xavier, presenting what was behind his back. In his hand there's a bouquet of purple lilacs, the roots of which having a significant amount of dirt on them. "They reminded me of you, they're pretty like you and purple like your hair."

Azar and her parents had warned Raven of becoming addicted to the way certain people made her feel. She very much used to the emotional signatures of Azar, Trigon and Arella. That makes it's easy to stay in control and avoid accidents. Unfortunately, she's not use to her new friend and his behavior is very much difficult to predict. At the complement, blush begins to creep its way up her cheeks.

 _BANG!_

A spot of grass had imploded, a result of the emotional influence on Raven's abilities and the warm offering of young man in front of her.

Startled, the cat jumps from Raven's lap and flees the two children.

She once again leaves the fountain to take her friend's gift, until she's overtaken by a shadow.

Looking up she sees the elder councilman who the most out spoken of her father and anything having to do with him.

Councilman Younger.

He breaks into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He takes the lilacs Xavier had offered to Raven.

"Hey those are for Raven!" Screams the cross little boy, as he attempts to forcefully take back the flowers.

"A loathsome creature such as this doesn't deserve such a beautiful offering," sneers the councilman, his rough throaty voice grating on the boy. The council then forcefully pushes the small boy to the grass. "And you shouldn't associate with her kind, boy."

Xavier picks himself up from the grass, dusting his now ruined robe off as best he could. "I don't know what problem you have with Raven, but if she's fine with Lady Azar she should be fine with you."

"Do you not know what her and her father are, boy? Are you not aware they are demons?"

Despite Raven's fear of the outspoken councilman, she moves to tug one of Xavier's sleeves as if to drag him away from the wrathful councilman. Unwilling to budge, Xavier throws a sneer of his own to the older man. "What does it matter?" He shoots to the elder.

"What does it matter? Trigon has brought destruction to an untold number of worlds and realms long before you were even a twinkle in your pathetic father's eye."

Further incited, Xavier responds, "You lie, you old fart!" Pulling his sleeve from Raven's hold. "Trigon only would do harm if it meant protecting someone!"

"…stop…" Raven quietly pleads.

"Protect?" says Councilman Younger before breaking into a condescending laugh. "If by protect you mean killing scores and scores of innocent people, then you'd be correct! Don't you get it, you foolish boy? Should Azar further place her faith and trust into," he gives Raven a lingering, disgusted look, "her kind our world will be next."

"…please, both of you…"

Having heard enough of having his friend's father's name being drug through the mud, Xavier charges Councilman Younger.

The councilman, having worked himself up (his own fault mind you), pushes the little boy once more into the grass. "You move to attack me, child? Fine. I'll show the discipline Azar isn't capable of dishing out." The councilman brings the pilfered lilacs to his nose, giving them one last sniff. "Such a waste," muses Younger. He then recites an incantation, the lilacs igniting into fire. The enflamed plants burn and collapse into a ball, floating just above the palm of Younger's hand. "May this lesson stay with you, boy." Says Councilman Younger before he launches the fireball at Xavier.

Raven can only watch, as the ball of fire gets closer and closer to her young friend, until…

The ball explodes, seemingly an invisible wall in front of the boy.

Raven then feels a gentle touch on her shoulder. This brings her senses back to her as she feels the aura of the one who touched her. Looking up she sees the white cloak and dress of her and her mother's mentor.

 _Azar._

The hood of her cloak is down revealing her graying her hair. The older woman's usually soft and friendly grey eyes are trained on the Councilman in anger and disappointment, her somewhat pouty lips are in a thin line reflecting the same. "Xavier, behind me," she commands, her usually quiet and soft voice is accentuated with a rarely used firmness telling the young man the time for argument isn't here. "Now."

"Lady Azar. How good of you to join us."

"Cut it, councilman. Do you accost these children?"

"I was merely enlightening the girl to her father's true nature and teaching the boy a lesson in how one should treat an elder of the council."

"By incinerating him?"

"Lessons taught in pain, are not lessons that are soon forgot, Lady Azar."

"Councilman, I've known you for a long time and have reared and taught the young Xavier myself. He's a headstrong young man and fiercely protective of those he cares for. And I know you can turn antagonistic at the drop of a hat. Can I guess you were bad mouthing Trigon or Raven?"

Younger laughs incredulously, "Bad mouthing? Telling these children of that demon's history isn't bad mouthing it's all true! Tell me I'm lying!"

She looks down to Raven. The older woman doesn't need empathy to tell the girl is scared and confused by the day's events and revelations.

 _If I can change the past, I most certainly would for the sake of this young lady._

"To reveal such things to Raven isn't your place, Councilman Younger. Arella, Trigon, her mother and I decided to tell Raven when she's older. To tell her now, I'm not sure what could come of it. Leave us councilman, I'll deal with you some other time."

"So, you say, my lady." Says Younger, as he leaves the scene.

Upon the councilman's departure, Xavier immediately attempts to excuse himself. As one could imagine, Azar's having none of it. "Xavier, I've told you countless times. Don't entertain Councilman Younger. Don't antagonize him. Do not give the man a reason to bring harm to you as he would take anything you give to him. In his mind he's justified based off your association with Trigon."

"But Lady Azar that's not fair or just, or right."

Azar takes a knee, to getting to eye level with the young man. She lovingly caresses the young man's head as she says, "I know, and I fight every day to change the minds of our people. To make people like the councilman just a tiny bit more open minded, so they can see not all demons mean to do harm."

"But what about what he said about Trigon? Did he really take over whole worlds and kill lots 'a people?"

She looks forlornly away from the boy, to Raven, who's taken his flank behind him. "It's not my place to say."

"But, "inquires Xavier before he's cut off by Azar.

"If you wish to have a conversation with Trigon about the subject, I won't stop you." She says softly. "But in the meantime, you're to refer to your scriptures and report to me 5 am every morning for the next 3 weeks, are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Crystal, what young man?" Asks Azar maternally.

"Crystal, Lady Azar."

Azar brings in the young man for a hug and a forehead kiss.

"Not in front of Raven," he complains.

Azar laughs at the young man as releases and dismisses him and turns her attention to Raven.

"So, it's true then?"

"Raven…"

"You didn't correct him!" Yells Raven, as the stone of the nearby fountain begins to crack under the pressure of Raven's unrestrained emotion (and in turn power).

Seeing the little girl close to an outburst of emotion. "Raven repeat after me. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."

Raven begins to repeat after her mentor, "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos." Until her center has been found.

"I'll ask you like I asked young Xavier. Do you want to talk to your father?"

"Yes," answers Raven.

"Would you like me or your mother present?"

"If you could both be present if at all possible?"

* * *

Trigon waits in a bland featureless white room, the only amenities being a wooden table with a faded golden-brown finish.

Trigon wasn't at all happy with the circumstance.

Not that it really matters. Now. Tomorrow. Sooner, or later he would've had to dealt with the look of disappointment of daughter find out what a he was in the past.

When Azar let him know what the loathsome Younger had told his daughter today.

When he saw his little girl enter the room with her mother and Azar in tow.

Arella takes a chair placing on the other side of the table, across from Trigon.

Raven sits in her mother's lap across from her father.

Arella smiles forlornly at Trigon.

"Papa, please tell me if Council Younger was lying."

"He wasn't. It's true."

"Papa, you're a murderer."

It absolutely broke his heart to hear it.

"I've no excuse for my past Raven but I suffer the consequences of my actions everyday."

"How do you suffer papa? You're alive. You enjoy the company of those who love you. Those people, they just aren't around."

Trigon has no answer for his daughter.

"Why did you do it?"

"That's a complicated question dear. But I may be able to show you instead of telling you why. Do you trust me?"

"I'm…I'm not sure." Says Raven as buries her face in her mother's hair.

"Raven," says Arella, "open your senses."

She obeys.

"Focus entirely on Azar and I."

Again, she obeys.

"Tell us do feel anything coming from us that would suggest a betrayal of your trust?"

"No," says Raven, still nuzzled up to her mother.

"Then we're asking you to trust your father." Says Azar.

Trigon gets up from the chair he's sitting in and immediately takes a lotus position.

"Meditate with your father, Raven." Implores Azar. "It will reveal all you want to know."

Raven leaves Arella's embrace to meditate on the floor with Trigon.

He presents both of his hands palms up to Raven.

"It's ok." Implore Azar one more time.

She takes his hands, which are gigantic comparison.

"Breath, Raven. Find your center." Requests Trigon.

 _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos._

 _Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos._

Once Raven's found her center, he opens himself up to her.

Raven's psyche is assaulted by memories, feelings and sensations not her own. She experiences the unnamed Azarathian who came to be Trigon, the Terrible. His put fate into motion by volunteering himself for the negative emotion purge.

How wrong that procedure went.

Having his physical body burned from his soul.

She experienced his first conquests. Done entirely on his own. She's seen lesser demons surrendering their services to him, lest they be next in his cross hairs.

But above all else she hears the screams of all the emotional fragments constantly telling Trigon to do the horrible, awful things he's done.

Eventually she sees the face of a woman. At first glance one would think its her mother, but hair color, brown, is a dead give-away. As encounters and experiences with the woman pass the influence of the emotional fragments begin to die down. The last vison of the woman is her tied at what appears to be a stake. Before she's to be burned, she screams to Trigon, "You are more than the circumstances of your birth. I love you."

After that Raven experiences her father abandoning his previously destructive ways, which isn't easy considering the emotional fragments continuously trying to influence Trigon's every move.

Eventually she sees a sunrise threw a patio door and a bundle of purple just below his eye sight. The bundle of purple rises to the center of his eye sight revealing a face.

 _My face._

The memory of Raven wipes the crust from her eyes, having just woke up. Apparently using her father's chest as a pillow. "Papa, is there any tea?" Asks the sleepy Raven. During the memory, Raven can't help but notice the voices of the emotional fragments are completely silent.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I don't own Teen Titans.**

* * *

9\. When Angela (Arella) Met Trigon

She hisses in pain as the necessary mark is cut into the back of her neck.

"We'll meet our lord Scath soon, sister Angela." Says a fellow member of the church.

The sting of the cut is further agitated as the same member attends the fresh cut with hemostatic medicine.

"OK, I'm going to cauterize the marking, sister." The member of the church grabs a finer-than-normal red-hot poker from a nearby fireplace. "Ready?"

"Yes, for the glory of Scath." Responds Angela.

"For the glory of Scath."

The verbal salute of The Church of Blood being her only warning, the member of the church brings the poker to the wound on her neck.

She hisses once more, barley betraying how painful the cauterization is.

 _This pain is nothing._

 _Nothing compared to what I've had to endure._

To say Angela Roth had hard life would be a massive understatement.

Born of an absent of father and a mother who passed away during delivery, she was born into being a ward of the state in Gotham City.

Ever since she can remember, she's been passed around from one orphanage to the next (and a few adoptive parents).

Angela, for one reason or another, was the constant the target of physical and verbal abuse of the other orphans, the adults who were in charge at the orphanages and a few of the households she was adopted by.

As a result, she became completely numb to most things around her by the time she was a teenager.

She was withdrawn, and hesitant even trying to connect with other people.

At times it seemed as if she was merely a passenger in her own life.

Once, she in a rare showing of self-expression had gotten a 3rd eye chakra stone piercing on her forehead. Unfortunately for her, the family who's care she was placed in at the time was a staunchly conservative one. The small body modification was met with swift, loud and violent reprisal from the family's patriarch. Which left a scar on her forehead that hasn't completely healed to this day.

This had been the last straw for the young Angela Roth.

She had run away, abandoning the system and familial structures that had failed her time and again.

But life on the streets of Gotham hadn't been any kinder.

She'd managed to avoid the fate that befell most young girls lost to the streets, but she'd still managed to fall into drugs in order to cope with her despondent life. To fuel her habit she'd boosted, pick-pocketed and worked regrettably as a waitress at both The Stacked Deck and later a bartender at The Iceberg Lounge.

She'd once even ran afoul of the city's resident billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She'd attempted to pick his pocket one time while working at The Iceberg Lounge. He'd recognized her from the lounge, almost immediately knowing what happened and confronted her. He'd thankfully allowed the dejected teenager to keep the spoils of her plunder and didn't even turn her into the police or her boss on the condition he take his card.

"Should you need anything at all don't hesitate to the number on card," he said, as he handed to specialized black card with gold lettering to the young lady.*

Either out of pride, stupidity or what-not, she never bothered to called him.

She was eventually arrested on possession and tried to serve her time.

She wasn't sure if it was out of happenstance or purposeful.

But she had crossed paths with Bruce Wayne once more.

It was by his petitioning the court that prevented her from doing significant prison time and getting the necessary help to kick her drug habit.

There she met a charismatic man on the staff named Abel.

Despite being only a C.O, Abel had the respect and admiration of staff and inmate alike.

His friendly brown eyes and inviting smile were a constant source of comfort during this time for her.

To her, he was like the big brother or father figure she'd been waiting for her entire life.

He'd coaxed her out of her shell.

She even credited him for helping her eventually rid herself of her addiction.

During the closing weeks and days of her sentence, Abel had propositioned her to join him.

"Angela, will you join others like herself; those brothers and sisters cast aside because they fail to meet the plastic expectations of this society. Will you join me in The Church of Blood?" He asked emphatically.

She didn't hesitate.

"Sister?" Asked the member of the church. "The mark is set, as is everything else. Are you prepared to meet our lord?"

"Yes." She replied simply, throwing her hair behind her.

The short walk to the alter did little to expel the nervous energy within Angela. Her eyes met Abel's, which is enough to quell most of the nerves within her. She joins him at the candle-beleaguered alter just in front of him.

He's wearing regal red robes befitting of the archbishop of a church. The robe has a white cross going across the torso, the 't' of which is situated at the chest. He also has a silver necklace, with a black and red medallion at the end. The red of the medallion belonging to stylized red 'S' at its center. The remaining members of the church are dressed similarly colored robes with the with cross and no necklaces. She herself is dressed in a royal blue cloak, with a long sleeveless black dress with no designs or markings. Her assorted brothers and sisters quietly chanting.

"The mark, Sister Angela. Show me." Requests Abel.

She obliges, turning her back to him and parting her hair behind her neck.

"Perfect," he says simply. He places his hands on the shoulders of Angela. "Sister, at my side."

He puts his hands together chanting in rhythm with the fellow members of the church.

" **Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus. Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus**."** They chant.

Abel's voice then booms above the rest of his brothers and sisters.

" **Veniet dominus noster fructum! Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus!"**

At once a strong wind propels threw the church to the alter, blowing out all the candles. As fast as they went out, they reignited ten times as hot and bright as they were before. The flames have taken on a bright red hue. The fires of the candles leave the wicks, swirling at middle of the alter right in front of Abel and Angela.

As if one had a mind of its own, an ember from the cyclone of fire hurls itself at Angela. She collapses, as she's embedded in a hue matching the flaming cyclone. Her 'brothers' and 'sisters' continue to chant, completely oblivious to her plight. The ember burns her intensely, but miraculously leaves her clothes, hair and skin unmarked. Eventually the glow of the flames begins to recede to the stylized 'S' carved in the back of her neck, the pain fading with it.

Her brothers and sisters have stopped chanting.

As Angela tries to find her footing, the flaming cyclone begins to come to a stop. They then begin to shape and couture into the shape of being. The fires are then expelled as it appears the being behind the expels the flames from its body, revealing the large figure of what's supposed to be their lord. He's dressed head-to-toe in black, his angry red arms revealed by short sleeves of his top. They immediately go to his chest as he folds them. But what Angela takes notice of first is his eyes. His cold black sclera, and dimly glowing iris' take in his surroundings and seem to give off an air of disappointment. His brows are creased seemingly in the same disappointment in his eyes, the crease continuing to his flat wide nose. She also notices his face, which is framed by shoulder length white hair, is as red as folded arms. His black lips are turned in a snarl, revealing what appears to be sharp looking fangs.

His eyes meet hers, and a look of shock and recognition hit his face. It returns to a neutral expression as he proclaims loudly: "Do you people honestly have nothing better to do!"

Murmurs among the members of the church begin to overtake the room.

"Lord Scath!" Screams Abel, "it is with great reverence I welcome you to the current congregation of the Church of Blood." He gestures to Angela, "We offer this young lady here as tribute for you, Lord Scath."

"Tribute…?" Exclaims Angela. She's immediately seized by both wrists by members of the church. "Release me! Now!" She yelled futilely struggling against her now captors.

"Where's the current Brother Blood?" Asks he who was identified as Scath.

"Sebastian's abandoned us. He's taken to training and recruiting young metahumans for his purposes some time ago. For all intents and purposes, I'm the defacto leader of the church."

Scath once more turns his vison to Angela. "This young lady, who is she?"

"She's an unremarkable," says Abel. The sting of his words piercing Angela, as his looks at her with new found contempt. "Some drug addled urchin we cleaned up for you, my lord. She's yours to sire…"

"Release her." Interrupts Scath. "Release her, now." He commands, as Angela continues to struggle against her captors.

Angela's former 'brothers' seem stupefied at being addressed by their lord, looking between Scath and Abel for some kind of confirmation from the two.

"Fine," mutters Scath. Angela's two captors are then enveloped in a black aura and lifted into the air by some unseen force. The aura begins to brighten as the men start to scream in pain, the screams intensifying the brighter the aura glows. The auras reach a sun-like brightness, all present covering their eyes from the light.

Theirs screams have stopped. And when her eyes are uncovered all traces of the two members of the church are gone.

And she can't help but realize the vague smell of burnt meat on her nostrils.

"You," he addresses Angela, "behind me, now!"

Not wishing to share the fate of her 'brothers', she complies right away. "Please don't kill me," she whispers in a small voice.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"Lord Scath! There's no need to spare this woman the dignity. Do with her what you will, so the prophecy may commence." Says Abel.

Scath sighs audibly. "I'm guessing you were the current Brother Blood's understudy?" Replied Scath.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Said able, irritably.

"The Bloods haven't changed much through the generations."

"Don't talk of that fool to me. I am the archbishop of the church! I will lead our brothers and sisters in these most trying times!"

Scath eyeballs Abel; seemingly unimpressed by what he sees, he replies: "You are more like your masters than realize. Taking in the naive and innocent, using them for your own purposes. And discarding them the moment it becomes convenient. You are more like your masters than you realize."

Abel doesn't reply to being dressed down by the demon lord.

"The young lady and I will be taking our leave now." Scath's iris's glow briefly. "Unless anyone has any objections?" He says eyeballing everyone else at alter.

It seems any objections are wisely held back.

"Great," says Scath, "young lady, let's get out here."

Angela makes her way to Scath's side, readying to leave. The assorted members of the church part as the couple makes their way through.

"Do you have anything you'd like to take with you? I highly doubt we'll be making a return here." Scath addressed Angela.

"Um...yes my lord. I'll lead you to my quarters."

"You know don't have to address me so formally, um. I'm sorry, young lady. What is your name?"

"Angela, lord Scath. Angela Roth."

"Trigon."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name, it's Trigon. Scath is more like a family name, or to be more precise, the name of my clan. And please, you don't have to call me 'lord.' I haven't been a lord in very long time."

* * *

A tense silence sits between the pair, as Angela packs her belongings.

"So," begins Trigon, "this going to be a little awkward, but do you know what that ritual was for Angela?"

"I was told it was to summon you," she begins as she continues to pack, " your summoning was to strengthen the faith of the members of the church and to quell any nonbelief that may have existed." She laughs sullenly to herself as she shakes her head. She places her gaze to Trigon. "I guess the latter was achieved. I was to be you emissary, which was why I branded with your mark." She turns around, parting her hair relevealing the mark of Scath on the back of her neck. "Though you're not exactly what I was told you'd look like."

"Oh, I'll have you know I'm quite the looker, at least mother says so." Replies Trigon, indignantly.

"I didn't say you weren't handsome, lord…I mean Trigon." She said in small voice blushing, looking away from him. "Wait… the ritual. Why did you ask me about it?"

Trigon begins to laugh awkwardly as he scratches his cheek. "Well it's pretty convenient you find me handsome, 'cause that ritual kind of, sort of made us," he mumbles the remaining statement, trialing off.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

He mumbles one more time.

"Could you please speak up!?"

"We're married now. There, satisfied?"

"So now what? You drag me to hell live out the rest of my life in wedded bliss?" Snaps a despondent Angela.

"No that'd be a bad idea. I'd have to hear from Neron and Augustus about…" Trigon trails off once more. "Actually, that's not important. What's important is that you now fall under my protection. I won't hold this union over your head, but you must know; you are forever bound to me. That mark on your neck ensures that."

Angela's eyes begin to water as what Trigon said begins to take hold and what this means begins to make itself clear.

 _Wife to some kind of demon lord of indiscriminate origin. I guess it's a step-up from emissary._ She laments bitterly. _What will become of me? Will he incinerate me like my brothers who tried to hold me down at the alter? Is he benevolent? He's shown me kindness thus far._

Angela begins to openly weep, crossing her arms over her chest; the gesture bringing her very little comfort.

Trigon closes the distance between them. He cups her cheek, tilting her face up wiping the tears from her cheek. His caress is gentler than would expect from someone his size. She nuzzles into his touch, it oddly bringing her comfort.

"Did they do this to you?" He asks running his other hand over the scar on her forehead.

"It doesn't matter."

"I can heal…"

"Just get me out of here, Trigon!" She interrupts. "I'm just ready for this day to be over."

"Okay." He says calmly. "Okay. Just finish packing and I'll take you…some place."

He backs away from her, walking to a wall leaning on it as Angela finishes getting her things in order.

His eyes go to a black card on the floor; its edges rounded and crinkled. It's clearly seen better days. He leaves his perch on the wall going straight for the card. He takes it off the ground, reading the stylized gold letters; his eyes shimmering in recognition.

"Alright, got I've everything important here. Oh, that old thing."

"Do you know, Bruce?"

"Not really. He did a few favors for me, for what I'll never know. I didn't deserve his consideration. You heard Abel, I'm an unremarkable. I my have even be less than that. He gave me that card, telling me if I ever needed anything to call him. There's more than a few times I've held that card in my hand, wondering if I made the right decision not calling him." She sighs. "Do you know him? I can't imagine so. I mean what would a demon lord need with an acquaintance like him anyway?"

"You'd honestly be surprised, my dear."

* * *

His armored footsteps thump loudly as he makes his approach.

"It's as you said Lord Augustus." Abel addressed. "He refused to sire the gem on the spot. You're sure he'll mate the woman eventually?"

"I'm sure," he cracks a smirk, "I sent you in her direction for a reason. There's something about her he won't be able to resist. My dear brother is hopelessly predictable, but that's not a concern right now. I'm more than prepared for the long game. What concerns me now is your devotion to the cause and your congregation's loyalty; it still lies with Trigon even though he's long since abandoned the church. I'm not up to entertaining reconditioning. Luckily I'm able to quell these concerns in one swing." Augustus stretches one arm in front of, his open palm facing the ceiling. A black orb manifests itself, eventually forming the shape of sword. He then grasps the weapon by the hilt, offering it to Abel. "Show me your devotion Abel. Your lord demands blood. The blood of those fool enough to place their faith in Trigon."

Abel takes the blade offered to him, "For the glory of Augustus."

* * *

 ***I might make a one shot outlining this interaction. I guess it depends on the reaction to this.**

 ****Translated from latin: Come forth our lord. Accept of our offering, so the gem maybe sired.**


	10. Chapter 10

**10\. Fathers**

 **A/N: I don't own Teen Titans.**

* * *

The excitement in the life of Slade Wilson had begun die down recently.

He'd had been dead up until just a few month ago.

He'd been recruited into the army of the demon, Augustus, to take earth as his own.

Augustus had promised Slade a few things, including being fully restored to life if the attack had been successful.

Despite that the earth would've likely become a vacant lot had Augustus had his way, Slade didn't hesitate to make a literal deal with the devil.

Partly making good on his promise, Slade was given a makeshift body (bones and not much else) in order to do his new master's bidding. He was also given pyro-kinetic abilities and command of a squadron of fire-familiars.

Learning more of his new master, he found that Augustus was the younger brother of the legendarily cruel demon-god, Trigon the Terrible. He was aware of Trigon through his various skirmishes with the superhero community through the years (namely Zatanna and Batman).

He'd also learned of his master's tactics.

Augustus had planned on fighting a battle on three fronts.

First, the earth. Second, a realm called Azarath. And finally, Augustus would goad Trigon himself to battle with himself using means he chose not to reveal to Slade.

Slade himself was to appropriate an old advisory, Raven of the Teen Titans (niece to Augustus and the only daughter of Trigon to his utter surprise!), willingly or otherwise; for she would be the key to jump starting The End.

Personally, Slade was convinced that Augustus was underestimating his opposition (namely Raven and her friends) and was spreading himself much too thin.

A sentiment he had kept to himself.

A sentiment that put a plot Slade's into mind.

Death has a weird way of putting things into perspective.

Slade didn't have a lot of regrets in his life, but he did regret how his relationships with his own children turned out.

Grant had been gunned down trying to emulate his father, their tribulations to remain forever unresolved.

Joey's vocal cords had been severed by an enemy of his father's while he was taken hostage. As a result: Adeline, the boy's mother, had divorced Slade and later rendered the assassin blind in one eye while attempting to kill him. In a cruel twist of irony, Joey had become the young hero Jericho, decrying his father's choices all the while.

Rose hadn't learned of who her birth father was until she already in her teens. She had sought him out, as her birth mother had passed away and he was the only family she had that she was aware of. He'd rebuffed her, as Slade was doggedly fixated on taking over Jump City.

Come to think of it, Slade doesn't even remember why he was so determined to have Jump City under his thumb.

 _Oh, well…_

If one bothered to ask, it surmised that he had little practical use for her; as he'd already failed with making Robin his apprentice and was already in the process of making Terra fill the void left by the boy wonder.

Fortunately for Rose, she was taken by Slade's mentor and former butler, William Wintergreen.

Rose had always asked him about her father, much to Wintergreen's chagrin and despite Slade's apparent disinterest in her.

Though, if one were to ask Wintergreen, 'disinterest' wasn't quite the way to describe Slade's feelings towards his daughter.

Perhaps Wintergreen new his former charge better than he knew himself.

Seeing through his apprentice. He'd figured out Slade had in fact wanted to get to know Rose. When Wintergreen pressed Slade about the constant rejection of the young Rose and had told the older man (in confidence) he was hesitant of what his daughter would think of him (given his history with Joey) and very much desired Rose avoid similar fates of that of he and Grant.

Fates that Slade was convinced can be avoided by not associating with him.

Despite pushing her away, she still pushed for a relationship with her father.

Fate was cruel indeed.

And as fate would have it, Slade's own wasn't exactly pretty.

He'd almost succeeded in fully taking over Jump City. Until he overplayed his hand with his last apprentice, the geo-kinetically powered Terra.

She ultimately decided to return to her friends, The Teen Titans, when victory was so close at hand.

 _Apparently returning to one's friends that you've once betrayed meant me being sent into a lava pit. But I guess I should thank her. Her actions that helped to lead me to where I am now._

As he fell to red hot pit of molted rock there was only one thought that plagued him:

 _What about what remains of my family? Wintergreen? Joey? Rose? What if it could be salvaged? What if-_

Slade didn't have a chance to complete that final thought as he was literally was burned out of existence by the lava.

 _I can make it back to them,_ that last thought coming back him as he began to doubt Augustus' chances of success. _I will make back, to her._

And he did. Through fighting the Titans after being partly resurrected, collecting Raven to jumpstart The End, being betrayed once more (this time by Augustus), and forging a shaky alliance with Robin to get Raven back; he managed to make himself hole again.

He was fortunately able to regain his body at the same time The Titans undid _The End_.

 _-Sniff-_

He was also to make good on the promise to himself, making it back to Rose and formerly assuming custody of her.

 _-Sniff-_

Slade wipes his nose with the back of his hand as his train of thought is interrupted by the pungent aroma of onions over taking his senses (and his kitchen).

Trying to be the dutiful father, the former assassin is chopping the strong scented vegetable for an evening meal.

Rose, _bless her_ , had managed to convince Joey and Slade to have a sit-down this evening. She thinks they can have-out their differences over a nice home cooked meal. Not that Slade's opposed to reconciling with his son, it's not that. Slade's worry is that the sentiment isn't reciprocated.

Slade continues to chop vegetables until _something_ reaches his senses.

See, Slade's most recent resurrection left him a little more than hole.

The 'more' supplementing an already formidable skillset, making engaging the man much more dangerous for any adversary.

Unfortunately, that _adversary_ he's about to confront isn't like most.

Continuing to act oblivious to that _something,_ he continues to go about his business, preparing dinner for he and his children. The growing impatience of his _guest_ is beginning to assault his senses.

Until…

"You know in my younger years I would've incinerated anyone who would just ignore me. Fortunately for you, I'm much more _**benevolent**_ then I used to be."

"Perhaps benevolence isn't what this situation calls for. I know why you're here," responds Slade, turning around to properly greet his guest, "do what you feel, Trigon." If Slade is to die once more today, he'd prefer to go quickly.

Trigon's dressed in all black with a matching black cloak, his red arms crossed over his chest revealed by the short sleeves of his shirt. His snow-white hair appears to be pulled into a pony-tail. Trigon's expression doesn't fit one who's pleased to see the former assassin. His two sets of eyes are set on Slade, glowing an ominous red glow. Trigon lips are slightly open as he's grimacing, showing Slade his pure white fangs. What appears to be the tips of horns or antlers are beginning to protrude out of Trigon's forehead.

"What I feel?" Says Trigon, as he chuckles incredulously. "What I'm feeling is that you should suffer as Raven suffered. Do you have any idea what you made her go through? To have the sum of what makes her forcibly stripped from her being, and to have that power to destroy the world that she's come love; to endanger her friends and family." Trigon's voice begins to become distorted as if possessed, sounding as many voices are speaking at the same time. The red of his four eyes begin to glow brighter. His horns then push through his forehead, completing the ghoulish visage of the wrathful demon-god standing before him.

Thousands upon thousands of distorted voices are calling out from within the demon. Demanding the man's blood be spilled in the most horrific of ways.

" **You've truly no idea what I feel, mortal**."

Taking the hint, Slade throws the knife at the demon.

It stops uselessly before the face of Trigon.

Chuckling at the former assassin's attempt to harm him, Trigon draws his cloak around himself. His white hair begins to float as black tendrils of his soul-self begins to emerge from the shadows underneath his cloak. **"Interesting,"** mutters Trigon, **"You wish for me make this quick, yet you make it a fight by throw a paltry kitchen knife at me."** The knife that's still floating before him turn so that the blade's now facing Slade. At an incomprehensible speed, the knife flies back toward Slade imbedding itself in his chest.

Slade hisses in obvious pain, "Call it the last breaths of a dying man. By not making it quick, its you who's making it into a fight. I'd never stand a chance against you. I recognize that I'm very much an ant staring into the face of the sun."

A tendril of Trigon's soul-self hauntingly makes its way to Slade. The black colored energy begins to envelope his left leg up to the knee, an ice sensation taking hold of the limb. " **An apt description of your predicament, mortal.** " A chilling smile creeps it's way on to Trigon's face as pressure and heat begins to spread over Slade's leg.

The former assassin can't help but double over in pain as his leg is slowly crushed and roasted. Slade, not wanting to give Trigon the satisfaction, is biting his lip to avoid yowling out in pain. It gets to a point where Slade can smell the skin and muscle cooking and the agony is so intense that he's broken the skin he's bitting down so hard.

" **You're certainly a live one** ," says Trigon.

No longer able to bare the agony of his leg being crushed and cooked, Slade finally yells out in pain. The sound of the man's screams is music to the ears of Trigon.

The pressure on Slade's leg increases until a fleshy pop is heard. The pain is more than the man has ever endured in his life. He freely screams as he grips where his leg used to be, bits of bone and cooked flesh at the stump.

The same tendril of his soul-self then envelopes another limb of Slade, this time a hand.

" **Tell me, mortal. Do you regret going after my daughter?** "

Slade, catching his breath from screaming and having his leg blown off, struggles to answer, "No," -pant- "not one bit. All roads traveled, all hardships endured," Slade smiles up at the demon as struggles through his answer, "all the blood on my hands led me back to my family."

A familiar pressure and heat begins to creep its way on to Slade's hand.

And before it can be comprehended, the limb meets the fate of Slade's leg.

"AHHHH!"

As Slade's screams once again die down, Trigon takes in the visage of the man in front of him. Pain and determination obvious his eye. A man that recognizes his end is very much at hand, yet his determination to live is very apparent.

- _Click_ -

The tale-tale thumbing back of a hammer catches Trigon's attention.

Slade's own expression takes on an anxiousness that cannot be placed as his eye moves to whatever is behind Trigon.

"Get the hell away from him you son of a bitch!"

Turning around, he eyes two figures. First a platinum blonde-haired young woman stands before Trigon. She's dressed in short sleeved shirt with a black tie and a navy-blue skirt and white and black striped socks that reach just below her knees, likely some school uniform. Her blue eyes trained on the demon, as determined as Slade's. She got a handgun trained directly on the demon.

Her companion, a curly blonde young man with green eyes stands to the side of young woman. He's wearing a white shirt with gold accents at the end of the sleeves under a purple tunic. A gold belt is holding up black tights which are tucked into purple boots, which are accented by gold like his belt and sleeves. There's a grim, _familiar_ determination in his eyes as well.

There's something else with this young man as well. It seems as if he trying to will something to happen by staring down Trigon.

The boy becomes transparent for a split second.

" **Ah, ah, ah, my boy."** Says Trigon, smart to what the young was attempting.

Becoming solid once more, he opens his mouth in silent agony, gripping his head and lowering to his knees.

"Joey!" Screams the young woman, dropping the gun and tending to her companion.

Slade not wanting his children to become victims to the demon before him speaks up, "Trigon," he says through heavy breaths, "let them go. You're here for me, right? Leave them out this!"

" **Curious…"** mutters Trigon, **"Deathstroke the Terminator, begging for the lives of children."** He then makes his way over to the tortured former assassin, lifting Slade by his neck. **"What are these children to you?"** He asked. **"What are they to you as you would throw away your own pride to beg for them?"** He adds.

Slade simply stares down Trigon, his mouth in a grim line.

" **Don't be shy now, mortal."**

Trigon does have a sneaking suspicion of what these two are to the man in his clutches but is starting to lose his patience.

Slade continues his silence, out of fear of what the creature before him would do to those kids if he revealed what they are to him.

" **Alright,"** says Trigon. The demon turns his attention to the two behind him, lifting his other hand at Rose and Joseph as if to…

"No…"

A large portion of black energy then comes from the ceiling between Trigon and the pair of teens. It then expands outward into the shape of a bird and a blue cloaked, purple haired young woman emerges from it as it's absorbed into her.

And said young lady doesn't look happy.

"They're his kids." Says that familiar monotone voice, answering Trigon's unanswered question.

At the sight of his daughter, the voices within Trigon begin to die down. The tendrils of his soul-self sink back under his cloak, presumably to be absorbed back into him. His horns then retract into his forehead. His eyes then lose their ominous red, the glow which is receding to his iris' returning his sclera to its usual pitch black.

"Ah, Raven," croaks Slade, "welcome to the party."

"Slade, can you not?" She responds bluntly.

"Dearest…"

"No, no." Raven interrupts Trigon. "Heal him. Now!"

"You don't expect…" Begins Trigon.

"Yes." Said Raven leaving no room for argument. "And you," she said referring to Slade, "you could've told him we've come to an understanding."

"It's not like he would've believed me, Birthday Girl." Responded Slade.

Raven breathes an exasperated sign. Then the half-demoness turns her back to the pair of fathers, then makes her toward Joseph and Rose.

"You guys ok?"

"I'm fine, but Joey may not be." Replies Rose.

 _I'm fine, I just have a splitting headache._ Signs Joey. _I_ _think trying to possess the demon over there was a bad idea._

"Rave, can you tell me what the hell is going on here? Why is, who I assume is the devil, attacking my dad."

Trigon reluctantly releases Slade and begins the process of healing his lost limbs. "An understanding? I…"

Trigon is interrupted for a third time by Raven, "He's my dad."

"Your dad?" Responded Rose, incredulously.

Raven nods her head. "I presume he's here for payback," Rose shakes her head in confusion, "your dad pushed me toward jumpstarting the end of the world. But he wasn't aware that your father and I had come to an understanding. As you know, Rose, he retired from supervillainy." She then turns to the pair of dads behind her, Trigon having just finished re-growing Slade's leg. A glow engulfs the stump of what used to be Slade's hand as Trigon starts to work on bringing it back whole as he grumbles to himself. Slade's smirking at the demon surely testing his fate as the demon works to heal him. "Part of it was my behest, but he later told me he planned to retire anyway. While he had been part of why I surrendered to what I was convinced was my fate, he's also part of the reason I was able to overcome it. He pointed and guided Robin in the right direction in order to save me in my diminished state. When I confronted him after it was all resolved, he told me why he did what he did. It was you two. A second chance at being a father. I told him if he ever came after Robin, myself any of my friends or family or caught a whiff of some plot, conspiracy or even petty theft, I would've found the deepest, darkest pit in all of existence and throw his ass into it." She finishes, smiling darkly.

"It wouldn't have been enough of his ass left to throw. He promised to be here for me, and I plan to hold him to that promise."

 _I say the jury's still out._ Signs Joey. The two young women impatiently. The blonde shrugs his shoulders dismissively. As if to say, _what?_

"But wait, how'd you know your Dad was here?" Asked Rose

"Two things really. Joseph hit the distress beacon on his communicator, and my dad's demonic aura is like the Bat-Signal to those who can sense it, especially when he's…agitated."

At that moment, Trigon had finished re-growing Slade's lost limbs. The former assassin stands on two legs once more, testing the stability of the newly regrown leg and flexing the new hand. "I think I like the old ones better." He said.

Enraged the demon gets into his face barring his fangs, "I can send them the way of the last two, if you continue."

Raven and Rose gets in between the two fathers. "Dad, stop." They said simultaneously.

"Fine," grumbled Trigon. His eyes then glow, then The Mark of Scath appears on Slade's forehead, accompanying burn spreading throughout his body. "Your deal with my brother forever has forever you to my thrall, as he used magics of my own creation to facilitate it. Should you ever make any move against my family again, those girls won't ever get chance to enact their respective punishments once I get my hands on you. Are we clear, Slade?"

"Crystal." He said, through gritted teeth.

The mark disappears, along with its burn. Slade continues to flex his regrown hand, staring at it as if contemplating something. "I know we'll never be friends Trigon, but I'd like to make a peace offering, and a thank you for not killing me. Wait here."

Not even a minute later Slade makes his way back into the room, with a long sword in his grasp within its scabbard. He pulls it a few inches out of the sheath, revealing its double fuller cross section.

"What use do I have for a sword? Wait? That aura… Is that the God Killer? How did you even get a that sword?"

"Fear not, this weapon is forged only with a fragment of the legendary sword. The full ability of the blade isn't within a single shard thankfully, though is capable of wounding beings like yourself." He said as he places the blade back in its sheath. "It was gifted to me by someone trying to recruit me to a cause. The New Church of Blood. I think they're amassing munitions to specifically kill demons. I took care of Abel myself who delivered it to me, so I don't know who's leading them. I caution you and yours to be weary Trigon."

"Hmm..." Trigon takes the sword from him. "You've my thanks, Slade." Says Trigon offering a hand to the man.

Slade takes out the stretched limb, solidifying the peace between the former demon lord and former assassin.

* * *

 **A/N: I was initially going to have the end as Slade manipulating Trigon into letting him go by effectively using Rose as an emotional hostage/emotional leverage; Slade saying something along the lines of, "so you'd kill me Trigon? In front of my ONLY daughter?" With Slade cracking a knowing smile in scene that plays out similarly to what it ended up being. But I thought the whole premise of these one-shots is to establish an alternative to Trigon like we see in other media; what if Trigon wasn't an asshole (or benevolent if you will lol). Why can't I do the same with Slade? I mean I remember a long time ago in the comics (pre-New 52) there was a storyline where the Titans (Rose and Jericho included) had to fight off Slade and a few other villains. At the end of that story after Slade's been defeated, he lamented that he HAD to push Rose and Joe toward the titans by actively fighting them. His reasoning being that the Titans can provide a family structure that he cannot. If Slade can show that kind of benevolence in the comics, why not in Fanfiction?**


End file.
